


Painted Blue

by originally



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: M/M, Undercover as a Couple, only with cyborgs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/pseuds/originally
Summary: Jensen needs an insider to get him into an aug-only club, and Koller owes him a favour.





	Painted Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masu_Trout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/gifts).



Václav runs his hand through his messy hair, squinting down into the innards of the Tai Yong retinal prosthesis on his workbench. Maybe if he got himself one of these, he wouldn’t need to squint so much to find the fucking loose connection that’s causing random blackouts for the mid-level Dvali soldier sitting in Václav’s chair. He just needs to turn it just so—

“Koller,” someone says behind him, and Václav nearly throws the eye.

“Shit,” he yelps, spinning around to face the intruder. “Jensen, man, what the fuck. Turn off your fucking leg silencers when you come down here. I could have shot you.”

Jensen’s expression doesn’t perceptibly change, but somehow it feels like he’s smirking. “Duly noted,” he says, with a pointed nod at Václav’s hands, which are holding a retinal prosthesis and not a gun. Whatever.  

“What brings my favourite shadowy supranational agent to my office?” Václav says. “I assume this isn’t a social call.” He’s not sure Jensen even knows the meaning of the word ‘social’. Though they’ve known each other for a while, he still knows next to nothing about the guy apart from that he’s got a set of the weirdest, most beautiful augs Václav’s ever seen wired up inside him, and he’s a cop. Which would be obvious even if Jensen had never said it; Václav’s not an idiot.

Jensen glances at the Dvali in the chair. “Maybe I should come back when you’re not so busy.”

“Ha, him, no, don’t worry about him. He’s out cold. Nobody wants me to pull out their eyeball without the gas, man, believe me.”

“Okay then,” Jensen says slowly. “Have you heard of an aug club called _Modrý anděl_?”

Jensen’s accent is still fucking horrible, but Václav gets the gist. He says, “It’s more of a private sex party than a club,” and then his brain engages. “I mean. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

“Koller—”

“Okay, okay. Maybe I know about it. Why?” He looks Jensen up and down, taking in his tactical suit and his trenchcoat and his sleek hardware. “I wouldn’t have thought it was your kind of place.”

“It’s not,” Jensen says, “but I need to get in there. All I know is that the location is a secret, and apparently one that’s impossible to find. I need an insider.”

“Is this for a case?”

Jensen’s expression is inscrutable behind his shades. “Can you get me in or not?”

“Come on, man, you’re not even gonna tell me what you want in for? I can do it but I have a reputation to maintain. If I vouch for you, you can’t go shooting the place up and killing all my friends.”

“You think that’s how I operate? I’m hurt, Koller,” Jensen says, deadpan.

“Yeah, and I’ll be hurt if anyone finds out I brought fucking Interpol to the party.” Jensen opens his mouth but Koller holds up a hand. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I still owe you one for saving my skin when that shit went down with Otar. But I got a condition, Jensen.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You have to take me with you. There’s no way they’ll let you in on your own.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, man, then you’d better find a different aug to help you.” Václav shrugs and turns back to his workbench.

“Alright,” Jensen says quickly. “You can come. But once we’re inside, don’t expect me to stick around. I have a job to do. I’ll be discreet.”

Václav turns and gives Jensen another once over, slower this time. “Jensen, if you think anybody in that club is going to take their eyes off you even for a second, you better think again.”

Jensen groans and Václav laughs. This might actually be fun.

*

They change the venue regularly; tonight, it’s a basement off an alley within spitting distance of the newly reopened Růžička Station. Probably some kind of poetic irony there, Václav thinks. The two of them are lurking in the shadows at Jensen’s request, watching people enter through the guarded metal door. Jensen has a lit cigarette he’s rolling nervously between two fingers as they wait. Václav’s not sure if the nervousness is for the effect or not.

“Now, Jensen,” he says, “remember what I told you.”

Jensen has still got his shades on, but Václav can practically hear his eyeroll. “I remember. I still don’t think it was necessary for me to wear this. I look ridiculous.”

To Jensen’s credit, he has followed Václav’s instructions to the letter so far. He’s ditched the whole ‘totally not black ops’ ensemble for something closer to sexy: skinny jeans a few years out of style, a studded choker borrowed from Václav’s own collection, and a black leather jacket with the sleeves ripped off that shows off his fucking Sarif series 7s, which, if Václav was a more unscrupulous man, could have fetched a fortune on the black market. Instead they’re going to fetch a lot of admiring looks tonight.

“You look like the perfect arm candy,” Václav says, and Jensen makes a disbelieving noise.

“Arm candy? Seriously? You know, Koller, I think I can take it from here. There’s got to be a back entrance or a vent or something—”

“Jensen, they got this place locked up tighter than the fucking Palisade Bank.”

Jensen snorts and takes a drag of his cigarette.

“What?” Václav asks. “This club is run by augs, man. The kind like us.” He pauses to smile at a couple of guys he recognises as they pass and then lowers his voice. “The kind smart enough or rich enough or jacked enough not to end up in Golem City. You think you’re the only one around here with cutting edge gear? Smart vision, hearing, tracking? Social enhancers?”

“Okay. Point taken,” Jensen says, blowing out his smoke in a long stream.

“So we gotta do this the old fashioned way. You just look pretty and pretend you’re my shiny boytoy and nobody will suspect a thing.”

“You bring shiny boytoys here a lot, then,” Jensen says, and Václav is glad it’s too dark in the alley for his blush to show. 

“Usually not as shiny as you,” he says lightly. “Come on, hot stuff. And ditch your fucking shades. You’re still screaming ‘g-man’.”

Jensen sighs and retracts the eyeshields, revealing his bright, augmented eyes. Václav’s breath catches a little in his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, man, that’s good. Come on.”

Jensen doesn’t complain when Václav puts a possessive hand on the small of his back to steer him toward the entrance, but he shoots him a sideways glance that speaks volumes. Václav only tightens his fingers slightly—and that’s Kevlar under the supple leather. Seems like Jensen doesn’t take chances.

When they’re close enough, Václav nods a greeting to the doorman, who gives Jensen a frank once over.

“New blood.”

“Yeah, and he’s mine,” Václav tells him in Czech, baring his teeth in a grin, “so keep your hands to yourself, Radek.”

“Sure,” Radek says, rolling his eyes and waving them through.

“That seemed easy. What was that you said to him?” Jensen demands as they descend, but luckily the music inside is too loud to speak over.

They emerge into a large, industrial space, with grey walls strewn with strings of LEDs that cast a cold, blue light over the tangle of pipes and beams and vents that crisscross the ceiling. Václav keeps his hand on Jensen’s back and guides him through the mass of writhing, augmented bodies that fill the room. Some are dancing, hips pressed close together and hands everywhere. Some are watching. And some are already fucking. In the centre of the room, where every eye is drawn, a guy with a beautiful set of leg prostheses finished in gold is tied to a steel beam. The muscles in his back flex as a woman runs her own golden fingers down his spine, a whip ready in her other hand. Over to the side, a girl with a pink mohawk that reveals badass cranial augs kneels in front of a woman with a set of Isolay athletic blades, running her hands up over the sleek, metal curves before burying her face between the other woman’s thighs. And then there’s Petr, one of the regulars, at his customary place in the corner surrounded by hopeful groupies. Václav can’t blame them; he himself has whiled away several very pleasant evenings with Petr and his augmented dick.  

He glances over at Jensen, gauging his reaction. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes that’s gone almost immediately, replaced with Jensen’s usual impassive mask. This is a space for augs to celebrate their bodies and their tech, and Václav hasn’t always gotten the impression that Jensen wants to celebrate his. There’s a story there, but Václav only knows parts of it: that David Sarif personally designed and installed Jensen’s augs, that someone else put in a bunch of crazy, experimental shit afterwards. It doesn’t seem like Jensen had a lot of choice in the matter. That’s kind of hard to imagine when you’ve maintained your own augs since you were a kid. Václav turns away for a second, his eye caught by a striking woman with a heavily customised Tusccani arm. When he looks back, Jensen has vanished. He curses and pushes his way through the crowd.

He catches sight of Jensen again just as he finishes hacking a door panel and slips through. Václav slips through after him into a nondescript grey corridor, deserted apart from Jensen, hefting a vending machine aside like it weighs nothing. Behind it is a slatted ventilation panel covering what must be an air-conditioning duct. Jensen crouches down and lifts the panel up.

“You’re not seriously going to go through there,” Václav blurts.

Jensen springs to his feet. “Koller. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can help.”

“I told you I needed to get this job done—”

“Come the fuck on, Jensen, just tell me what this is about—”

“You already know too much for a civilian. I don’t want you involved in this.”

Václav throws up his hands. “You involved me when you asked for my help—”

“Quiet,” Jensen hisses suddenly, and then he’s pressing Václav against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. His face goes slack; this close Václav can see the ring of gold light up in his iris as he checks his HUD.

“Trouble?” Václav murmurs, his lips close to Jensen’s ear.

“Maybe,” Jensen says. “Sorry about this.”

There’s no time to react before Jensen is kissing him, his lips rough and dry against Václav’s, his beard rasping against Václav’s skin. He tastes of coffee and cigarette smoke.

Footsteps sound close by and a voice says, “Hey, you can’t be back here. Get back to the public area.”

“Sorry, man,” Václav breathes, feeling little lightheaded as Jensen breaks the kiss and pulls back. “Thought this was the way to the private rooms.”

“Oh, Koller. It’s you.” The voice resolves into a guard holding an assault rifle, a woman that Václav knows by sight if not by name. “Not putting on a show tonight?”

Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up. Václav wishes fervently that he had installed the subvocalization add-on for his Infolink as he tries to decide on the best thing to say.

“Uh, no, my, uh, my friend isn’t really into public displays.”

“Too bad,” the guard says, eyeing Jensen’s arms. “Nice tech.”

Václav takes a deep breath and pulls himself together. He arranges his face into a smile and says, “Isn’t it beautiful?” He runs a hand over Jensen’s arm, and a shiver goes through Jensen’s body.

“Let me escort you to the private rooms,” the guard says, and Václav shoots Jensen a helpless look. They have no choice but to follow.

Jensen has the subvocalization add-on, because he’s a shiny fucking secret agent so of course he does. His voice crackles directly into Václav’s ear. “Are you alright? I think we have to go with this for now. At least until I get you somewhere safe.”

Václav takes hold of Jensen’s hand and squeezes, meeting Jensen’s eyes with an expression that he hopes conveys understanding and not the level of pants-shitting terror he’s actually feeling. He’s a scientist, not a fighter. Why did he think it was a good idea to get involved in police shit?

They round a corner, then another, then pass through a heavily-bolted door back into the public area, almost running into a grizzled older guy with silver hair, a puckered scar bisecting his cheek, and a military-grade prosthetic right hand. And an entourage of thugs. Oh fuck, Václav thinks.

“Václav Koller! So this is where you’re hiding. I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”

“Dvořák,” Václav says. “How are you, man?”

“That’s Dvořák?” Jensen says over the Infolink. “He’s the guy I’m here for. Keep him talking.”

It’s fucking difficult to keep up with two conversations at once in two different languages. Václav squeezes Jensen’s hand again, and watches Dvořák’s sharp eyes sweep over their joined fingers.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is, uh—”

“Just say Adam,” Jensen says in his ear.

“—Adam. He’s visiting from America,” Václav says, thankful for the excuse to switch to English and eliminate one headache.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Adam,” Dvořák says with a leer, holding out his augmented hand for Jensen to shake.

“Nice to meet you too,” Jensen says. “Mr. Dvořák, was it?”

The handshake lingers a little too long, and Václav feels a stab of irrational jealousy mixed in with his fear. Dvořák has always scared him a little. Okay, a lot. He was the leader of one of Prague’s most notorious gangs before he got forced underground to stay out of Golem City. Everyone knows he lost his hand in a fight with Iakob Dvali back before Václav was even born—and that he strung the entrails of Iakob’s lieutenants across Wenceslas Square in revenge. This is a dangerous man to fuck with.

“Maybe you can take a look at my hand later, Václav,” Dvořák says, slipping his arm around Václav’s shoulders. “It’s been giving me a little trouble. But first, why don’t we all go somewhere a little more private? Catch up?”

“We’d love to,” Václav manages to say.

“Wonderful,” Dvořák says, with a nod to his thugs to follow. “Your friend has some augs I’d like a closer look at.”

“Are you the doctor for every gangster in the city?” This time, Jensen’s voice in his ear sounds exasperated. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Václav fervently hopes Jensen knows what he’s doing as they trail Dvořák deeper into the heart of the building.

*

Dvořák’s private room is heavily guarded, and not just by his thugs; Václav counts at least three turrets, several cameras, and a security bot on standby as they pass. Whatever Dvořák is doing down here is not something he wants people finding out about. Václav had no fucking idea any of this  shady shit was going on behind the scenes of a place he comes to for pleasure and affirmation. Maybe he should have. Maybe—

Jensen’s hand is suddenly grasping Václav’s again.

“Calm down,” Jensen says over the Infolink. “We don’t have time for you to freak out now, Koller.”

Maybe it’s because Jensen’s calm voice and his large, solid presence and his sleek spy tech seem to radiate competence, but Václav does feel calmer. A little, anyway.

Dvořák’s private room is bigger and more luxurious than Václav had expected, with a large screen showing Eliza Cassan, a leather sofa against one wall, and a king-sized bed in the corner. A coffee table sits in front of the sofa, topped with several bottles on a silver tray. Dvořák ushers them in, flicking off the screen with a wave of his augmented hand. Three of his thugs close ranks behind them to lounge menacingly around the closed door, their hands on their guns.

“Can I get you a drink?” Dvořák asks.

“Not for me, thanks,” Jensen says.

Václav says, “Vodka.” He needs to steady his nerves. When Dvořák hands him a glass, he drains it in a single, shaky gulp.

“Keep it together,” says Jensen in his ear.

“So, Adam,” Dvořák says, settling himself on the sofa. “What brings you to Prague?”

“I wanted to see the world,” Jensen says. “After the, uh. After the incident, I decided it was now or never.”

That sounds moderately convincing, Václav thinks.

“And where are you from in America?”

“Detroit,” Jensen says, and the wistfulness in his voice suggests that one is actually true.

“Ah, Motor City,” Dvořák says. “You look like quite the performance machine yourself, Adam.” He gives Jensen a slow, filthy once over that leaves no doubt as to his intentions. “Are those Sarif’s work? They’re exquisite.”

“My… previous employer,” Jensen says, “had me fitted with high-end tech. He, uh, he had expensive taste.” He manages to heavily imply that he’s talking about his sugardaddy. Václav is impressed.

“He must have been sorry to lose you,” Dvořák says. “Your… employer.” He leaves a pause that’s ripe with insinuation.

“Should I take a look at your hand?” Václav asks brightly.

Dvořák waves him away. “Later. I’d like to see what other augs Adam’s employer gifted him with.”

“He’s a little shy,” Václav says, at the same moment that Jensen says, “Václav and I are exclusive.”

“Oh, yes, that,” Václav says, belatedly. “We’re, uh, we’re not looking for a lover right now.”

Dvořák’s dark eyes glitter dangerously. “What about an observer?”

Václav turns to Jensen, attempting to convey with only his eyes that Jensen doesn’t have to do this. Jensen brings a hand up to touch Václav’s face, gently, and says over the Infolink, “I have a plan but we need to get his guard down. Do you trust me?”

Václav inclines his head, trying to nod without making it obvious to the others, and presses a soft kiss to the pads of Jensen’s augmented fingers. Jensen sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed. Despite the terror of the situation, Václav’s cock stirs at the sight. Or maybe because of it; he wonders if a terror boner is a thing. Then Jensen opens his beautiful eyes and bends to kiss him, and all other thoughts are forced from Václav’s head.

This isn’t the awkward, clumsy kiss from earlier. Jensen’s tongue traces the seam of Václav’s lips and Václav opens up to him, letting Jensen take control. Jensen gets a hand into Václav’s hair, tilting his head back to change the angle of the kiss, and the sensation of metal fingers against his scalp makes Václav tingle all over. He gasps into Jensen’s mouth, letting his own hands follow the lines of Jensen’s body. Distantly, Václav can hear Dvořák unzip his pants. He tries not to think about their observers, instead pressing himself closer to Jensen until their bodies are flush together. Jensen wraps his arms around Václav and manhandles him easily toward the bed. He pushes Václav down to sit on it and unfastens his jeans, shimmying them down his legs.

“Beautiful, Adam,” Dvořák says from behind Jensen. “I hadn’t realised how extensive your augmentations were.”

Václav flinches, and tries to disguise it as a shiver. Jensen rubs his thumb across Václav’s lips and Václav opens his mouth, sucking it inside.  

“There’s a crawl space under the bed,” Jensen says. His lips are barely moving but the sound is clear as a bell in Václav’s ear. “When I give you the signal, get down there, close the hatch behind you, and wait for me to finish up here.”

Václav lets out a shuddering breath and nods. There’s a couple of seconds of silence before Jensen says, “Go,” through the Infolink and activates an aug that throws up an ink-black shell around him. Václav dives for the floor as all hell breaks loose.

*

A few days later, he’s working on a Tusccani prosthesis his supplier just sent over when the sound of heavy footsteps across the workshop floor make him turn.

“No leg silencers,” he says.

Jensen grins. He’s back in his usual trenchcoat but his shades are off, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes. “I heard you were shooting people who sneak up on you.”

“Fuck, man, I never want to see another fucking gun,” Václav says with feeling.

Jensen’s grin fades and he shifts his weight a little awkwardly from foot to foot. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Koller. I should never have put you in danger that way.”

“You didn’t. I put myself there. You tried to say no but I followed you.”

“Still,” Jensen says, and there’s a tortured look on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Dvořák now?”

“He’s in an Interpol cell, waiting to answer to charges of human trafficking.”

“Human—Christ, Jensen. That’s what he was doing in there?”

“Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”

“Fuck,” Václav says, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I really liked that club. I can’t believe that shit was happening right under my nose, man.”

“You didn’t know,” Jensen says. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “And I’m, uh. I’m sorry for what happened in that room. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.”

“That wasn’t what happened. You were saving both our lives.” Václav grins at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyway, it wasn’t a hardship to kiss a handsome man, Jensen. In case you didn’t notice, I’m kind of notorious for it around there. I should be apologising to you for putting that idea in their heads in the first place.”

Jensen lets out a breath in a whoosh, like a sigh of relief. “You don’t need to.”

“Neither do you, man. We’re good. It all turned out fine in the end, hey?”

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Then Václav adds, “Also, can I see that shield again? Was it one of those weirdass experimental augs you’ve got in there?”

Jensen laughs. “Haven’t you seen enough of my augs for now?”

“Are you kidding? I meant it when I said your tech is eye-candy, man. Half the augs I know would give their right arm for one of those series 7s. Literally.” He reaches out unthinkingly to touch Jensen’s arm as he talks.

Jensen looks down at Václav’s hand and back at his face, then takes a deep breath. “Did you mean that before? About kissing me?”

“Obviously,” Václav says, but the rest of his words are swallowed as Jensen brings their mouths together.

This time the kiss is tentative and careful. Jensen’s hand is gentle on the back of Václav’s head, cupping him as if he’s something fragile, not holding him in place. They stay like that for a long moment, breathing into each other’s mouths, until Václav makes a frustrated sound, snakes his own fingers up into Jensen’s hair and pulls. That seems to shake something loose in Jensen. He grunts and shoves Václav back so he hits the wall, then crowds him up against it.

“Fuck,” Václav gasps, and drags Jensen back down for another kiss. When they break apart, he tugs at Jensen’s pants and says, “I really want to blow you. Can I blow you? Fuck, man, why do you have all these layers and fucking pouches? What do you even have in there?”

Jensen groans and twists to lean against the wall instead of Václav, fumbling off his utility belt before shoving his pants halfway down his thighs. He’s still wearing a bulletproof vest and the goddamn trenchcoat but Václav doesn’t give a fuck. He drops to his knees, running his hands over the metal high up at Jensen’s hip, tracing the line where it gives way to the soft flesh of his inner thighs. Jensen’s half-hard dick twitches at the touch, and Václav sucks it into his mouth, letting it stiffen on his tongue. Jensen moans and thrusts his hips. Václav digs his fingers into the meat of Jensen’s ass to hold him in place and goes to work, savouring the desperate sounds he coaxes from Jensen’s throat.

It doesn’t take long before Jensen’s fingers are tightening in Václav’s hair and his muscles are tightening under Václav’s fingers and he’s coming, the taste acrid on Václav’s tongue. He swallows quickly, figuring that Jensen has enough health augs in him that he’s probably clean. He sits back on his heels, looking up at Jensen’s closed eyes, his blissed-out expression. He looks so much younger like this, without the sense that he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Václav likes that he could put that expression on Jensen’s face. He’d like to do it again sometime.

He stands and Jensen catches him by the wrist, pulling him in for another kiss.

“So… I can’t go back to my sex club,” Václav tells him when they break apart. “Not if it’s full of human traffickers.”

“I’m not sure it’s full—” Jensen starts, falling silent when Václav puts a finger to his lips. Jensen rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I hope you’re ready, man, because you have a lot of work to do to make this up to me.”

Jensen laughs, and Václav thinks that _this_ time, it’s definitely going to be fun.


End file.
